Strolling in the Gardens
by Espresso Yourself
Summary: Antonio runs into Berwald at the local gardens after a world meeting. Has Sweden's cold and aloof demeanor met its match in the form of Spain's passionate and unobservant one?


_Author's Note: Domingo at your service. This was written over a ten-day time period in Granada, Spain. Inspired by jetlag and the International Rose Test Gardens, which look nothing like the described scene. Stay open-minded about this pairing. Reasoning located in my profile._

Trolling in the Gardens

The tantalizingly sweet aroma of flora filled Antonio's pallet to the brim. The park was covered in orange peonies, lavender, blue hydrangeas, and white roses that were yellowing at the center. The petals created the dreamy illusion of strolling across a pastel sunset in an unknown land. As it was, the blossoms seemed to be a reflection of the peacefully darkening sky above the Spaniard. The tranquility was desecrated, however, when from behind him, Antonio heard the sound of a stumble on the smooth cobblestone path. Startled, he himself slipped only to catch himself on one of the multifarious white archways. His cheeks slightly heated from the blunder, he glanced back to discover his follower. Antonio was faced with a pink-tainted Berwald not twenty paces behind.

"Ah," Antonio began in a casual yet polite manner as he straightened himself, "Señor Suecia. What brings you here?"

"Looked pretty," the flustered Swede replied in a vague manner, standing from the spot where he'd fallen. He glanced away nervously; after seeing Spain come this way, he'd been curious and followed him, though he'd never admit to it.

"Well," the Spaniard said with a warm and inviting smile, "why don't we enjoy it together?" His eyes looked up to Berwald's, hoping to catch the potent blue gaze. He was disappointed, as the Swede looked everywhere but at Spain.

"No, thank you. Have work to do," he mumbled, barely loud enough for Spain to catch. He started to walk forward so to go past the arch and exit the gardens, but Antonio subtly sidestepped into the man's way.

"Come now," he protested, brushing some excess dust off of Sweden's dark suit. "Surely God would not have created such a beauty unless it were meant to bring us together." Sweden began to hesitate, appearing as though he might push past Spain, then thought better of it; he'd never treat anyone so roughly. "For just a moment?" Antonio inquired, feeling as though he were about to be disappointed. Berwald blinked his consent and cast his gaze downward, blue eyes meeting green for just a moment. "After you," Antonio directed with a pleased grin.

As they strolled through the gardens, there was an air of unease, though Antonio felt it not. Berwald loosened his tie then, feeling unrefined, tightened it once more. He fiddled with his cuff links then thought himself childish and tried to keep his fingers still. He relaxed only slightly when he saw that Spain did not notice; for as well meaning as he was, he could certainly be a fool to rival all others and ignorant of his surroundings to match. Every few seconds, he would inspect something new, hardly absorbing what he'd laid eyes on previously. Berwald found that he could not match Spain's pace as his gaze followed the other.

"Why don't we have a seat?" Antonio inquired, giving Sweden a start. He looked to Spain and saw that the man had found a gap between some Chinese lantern plants and orange peonies, just off the path. Without awaiting an answer, Spain trotted forward and sat himself on the cool grass. Berwald could hardly see him through the curtain of petals, let alone the petite clearing there; it was well hidden in the waist-high fauna. Berwald, the color of ivory and roses, followed Spain after shy hesitation. They sat close to one another on the damp grass, for there was hardly enough room for the both of them. Sweden could no longer distract himself with his surroundings with the Spaniard so close and the once-filling silence decayed to an uncomfortable one. Antonio somehow managed to remain impervious to it and spoke with no diffidence.

"I do love these gardens," he commented, the seeds of nostalgia planted in his voice. The Swede nodded and gave a little sound of acknowledgement. He felt Antonio's stare upon him, but kept his eyes averted. At last, the Spaniard looked away from Berwald to the evening sky. "I always wondered," he began in a dream-like tone, the recollected memories at the forefront of his mind, "did you ever spend time in gardens with Señor Linnaeus? I certainly did with Celestino." Spain had expected a monosyllabic answer once more, but was pleasantly surprised; it seemed that they had struck some common ground.

"Ja, I did. Carl had an impressive home garden. Many unique plants. Always enjoyed watching them bloom in spring." The man's blue gaze turned to the heavens and was misted over as his own fond memories danced across them. The corners of his mouth revealed the echo of a smile. Antonio's fingers were entwined in his hair, but by chance he noticed that beside him, Berwald's fingers were fiddling with the grass. While he observed this, he took no specific note of it and allowed his hand to fall gently atop Sweden's. While the latter had begun to move his hand away, Antonio, realizing its location faster than the Swede, seized the opportunity immediately and closed his hand around the paler one. There was a near-concerned question in the Spaniard's eyes as they finally met the blue ones. Sweden merely shifted his weight, so to be ever so slightly closer. Following suit on a larger degree, the brunette did the same, so that their thighs were nearly touching. Antonio took his hand and slithered it behind Berwald's back, to place it on the ground beside his waist. He'd released Berwald's hand to do this and thus felt as the Swede mirrored his actions. Sweden was undeniably shocked by both their actions and was stiffly sitting while Spain relaxed for perhaps a minute until at last affection melted the fear and his near trembling hand beside Antonio pulled him to his shoulder. The brunette felt his eyelids shut and his head gravitate until all his weight was against his counterpart. Their breathing became harmonic and neither could trap the words to describe what they felt as sentences drifted past like sand in an hourglass. They desired forever to be in this oasis as time rushed in circles about them. At last, one spoke:

"I love your word for stars," came the low voice, gentle and smooth as honey, "Estrellas." The wondrous phrase floated upward delicately, not unlike a lullaby. Drowsily, Antonio remarked,

"Sí, but you are not quite right. The accent is wrong."

"Oh?" Sweden inquired curiously. Antonio tilted his head back so that his mouth was next to Berwald's ear and whispered the sweet gossamer word.

"Estrellas."

_Translations and clarifications:_

_Señor: Spanish – "Mister"_

_Suecia: Spanish – "Sweden"_

_Estrellas: Spanish – "Stars"_

_Sí: Spanish – "Yes"_

_Ja: Swesish – "Yes"_

_Carl Linnaeus: Famous Swedish botanist in the 16th century. One of the two most influential botanists in the world._

_Celestino Mutis: Famous Spanish botanist. Other one of the two most influential botanists in the world._

_Trolling: I did it to piss y'all off. You mad?_

_Totes my goats later and thanks for reading! - Domingo._


End file.
